The Process of Letting Go

I am a very protective parent. 

All computers are located in the family room.  There are website filters installed.  The kids know what kind of TV shows are acceptable.  I ask questions about their friends.  I talked to them about predators, both online and off.  We've talked about drugs, alcohol, etc.  We have done "what-if" scenarios to ensure that they will at least have an idea how to handle crises.

As I said, I am a very protective parent.  If I could protect them from the world so that they will always be safe, happy and healthy, I would.

But now my babies are growing up.  They have now entered the teenage years, and I know I must start the process of letting go.

I still remember the time when they were playing with stuffed animals and were pretending that this one big bear was pregnant.  They were 4 and 5 then.  One child said, "Out comes the baby from the belly button!"  We've talked about babies and sex (oh, not the details, I'm not that brave) since that time, but their conversations still catch me offguard once in a while. 

Have you ever seen the Domino's commercial? The man cheekily tells the woman that they have 30 minutes until the pizza got there, and the woman gets the hint and asks the guy, "What are we gonna do with the other 28 minutes?" 

To my amazement, both my children thought this was hilarious.  I never really asked, but it did make me wonder if they really, fully, understood the innuendo and sarcasm.  If they did, wow.  Makes you wonder what exactly is going on in that school bus!

I guess my kids are really growing up, in more ways than one.  One's taller than I am, and the other isn't that far behind.  They're now talking about taking Driver's Ed soon, what kind of car they'd love to have, maybe taking on some odd jobs this summer.  We've had some pretty grown-up conversations, although they both still ask to be tucked in at night.  And everytime they ask me to do that, I can't help but ask myself, "Is this going to be the last time?"

So I dutifully tuck them in, and I tuck that memory in my heart.  So bittersweet, the process of letting go.